It Started With a Sweater
by RainThestral93
Summary: When Ron's antics result in a very compromising picture of Hermione getting splayed across the Daily Prophet, it's all she can do not to tear her hair out in frustration. It's clear their relationship isn't working - but has that got more to do with the pile of Percy's clothing that Hermione's accumulated than she cares to admit? Written for the "I must not tell lies" competition.


**A/N: **This piece was written for the "I Must Not Tell Lies" competition by lella7. It's a oneshot, but for some reason I've decided I quite like the pairing of Hermione/Percy, so who knows, I could write more in future. I'd love to know what you think –Beth :) xx

* * *

**It Started With a Sweater**

Hermione made her way into the Burrow's kitchen, bleary eyed and slightly hung-over. The events from the night before were somewhat of a blur, but she could remember snatches. Ron had pressed her up against the bar, leering at her, his hot breath at her neck, as his cumbersome hands had tried to hitch her skirt up. She'd slapped him away, not nearly drunk enough to succumb to his advances. You'd have thought that being her boyfriend and all he'd treat her with a little bit more respect. Not Ron. He treated her like a piece of meat. Hermione sighed as she waited for the kettle to boil – always preferring to make her morning brew the Muggle way, to ensure maximum flavour.

A cough interrupted her from her relationship assessment as she wheeled around to see a sleepy looking Percy Weasley. She struggled to keep a smile off her face – for this had to be the only time she'd seen him looking the slightest bit unkempt. He had a tuft of hair sticking out at a bizarre angle – not dissimilar to the look that Harry, her best friend, rocked near constantly. He was wearing blue and white pinstripe bottoms; and Hermione supressed a giggle as she likened them to a tube of toothpaste in her still _slightly_drunk state. He was bare chested, and her eyes widened as she took in a sculpted but not overworked torso that she wouldn't have expected on workaholic Weasley.

* * *

Workaholic Weasley was the nickname she'd given him when she'd first started getting to know him. Assigned to his department in the Ministry of Magic – for since the war he'd been promoted to head position in the _Department__ of International Magical Cooperation_– for her summer internship, Hermione had come to know the stern, law-abiding redhead better than perhaps any of the Weasley family.

She appreciated his mannerisms – the way he flew into a rage whenever Charlie borrowed one of his books, and returned it with the corners folded as page markers. The rant he'd gone into about the use of bookmarks had been a subject close to Hermione's own heart – and she had been somewhat impressed.

Admiring of his dedication to his work, she found the sight of him poring over legislature at three in the morning endearing more than anything – that was, until she found she would be the one to correct the mistakes that his sleep-deprived self let slip under the radar.

Hermione found the way the older wizard pushed his spectacles up the bridge of him nose, only for them to slip right down again amusing, and would be lying if she wasn't strangely attracted to the way he peered over the top of his glasses whilst talking to her.

In fact, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't had any inappropriate thoughts about Percy Weasley, full stop. She shook herself, eyes widening slightly as if she couldn't belief what her brain was doing. She was dating his brother, for heaven sake. Thinking about a shirtless Percy Weasley definitely wasn't helping. Handing Percy a cup of hand-brewed coffee, he inclined his head in thanks, and sat down at the breakfast table.

He unfurled his copy of the Daily Prophet – which he ordered to be delivered, every day, _without fail_– and began reading, his brow furrowed. His eyes glazed with anger as he scanned an article. Hermione raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Cretin," Percy muttered, not thinking Hermione's hearing ability was quite as good as it was.

"Sorry what?" The witch asked, confused.

Percy looked around, astonished she'd heard his mutterings, and reluctantly showed her the paper.

Hermione's eyes skimmed the article at the record-breaking reading pace she'd set over the years, and her expression took on a steely tone. The picture, more than anything was the interesting thing. It depicted none other than herself, disgruntled expression on her face, as none other than Ron Weasley pressed her against the bar. It was pretty clear from the picture and the article headline "Trouble in Paradise?" what the reporter had been inferring. Hermione rolled her eyes – it wasn't even noteworthy news, really. Some people just couldn't mind their god damn business.

* * *

But maybe the article was right. Maybe there really was trouble in paradise – and the relationship that Hermione had embarked on with her best friend after a heated kiss in the Chamber of Secrets in the midst of a war was crumbling in its foundations. Maybe it wasn't even anything to do with the fact that her personal life was now splayed across the Prophet for every nosey witch or wizard to see. Maybe it had a hell more than Hermione Jean Granger would care to admit to do with a certain bespectacled redhead – and it _wasn't_Arthur Weasley.

It had started with an innocent gesture. A jumper, nonetheless. But the thing was, the jumper wasn't any old jumper, which Hermione could fob off as belonging to her Dad, or perhaps a cousin. The "P" emblazoned across the front of it in typical Molly Weasley fashion was somewhat of a giveaway that the jumper belonged to none other than Percy Weasley.

Hermione struggled to recall the exact date, but she did remember the where and why. Ron had left her at a bar in London, was it? She couldn't exactly remember, the whole thing had been a bit hazy. He had never managed to come up with a good reason – and Hermione suspected he'd simply had one too many fire-whiskies, and then apparated home, forgetting that he'd left his girlfriend behind. She'd been making her way out of the bar, drawing her thin shawl around her shoulders as she'd called out for Ron in the street.

She got no response, of course, for the redhead was already curled up in bed, blissfully asleep, unaware of Hermione's predicament. But she certainly caught the attention of a few others; a lone woman, wondering the streets wearing a very elegant and tight fitting red dress. There were a few catcalls, and a whistle, as one of the men tried to grope her. She struggled against them, her heart pounding manically in her chest. Percy, by some streak of fate, had seen the scene unfurl and had blasted her attacker away with a simple curse. He had hurried over to her, checking she was alright, and noticed her shivering.

Without so much as a second's hesitation, Percy Weasley, reputed Scrooge, whipped his homemade sweater off and wrapped it around her shoulders. Hermione thanked him graciously, and he'd simply shook it off, muttering about how Ron was going to pay for this. She'd not thought much of it – after all, it was merely a lucky escape – and she fell asleep with Percy's jumper pressed to her face, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

Hermione was careful to hide Percy's sweater whenever Ron came round hers. After all – she wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea. But perhaps there was something that Ron could get the wrong idea about?

Gradually, Hermione began accumulating more and more of Percy's clothing – it became somewhat of a secret fetish. He never complained, she noted, nor asked for his clothes back. She suspected that being a high earning Ministry official and all, it wasn't too bad. But now she had a pile of sweaters in her wardrobe –and a skeleton in her closet.

For Hermione Jean Granger, she realised with shocking realisation, had a thing for Percy Weasley. Which brought her to the epic conclusion that there was only one thing to do; break up with Ron.

* * *

"I'm going to break up with him," Hermione announced, with a downwards glance to the paper in her hands.

Percy nearly choked on his coffee. "What?"

"You heard me," Hermione sighed, "This _keeps _happening, it's evident it isn't working between Ron and I."

"But –" Percy spluttered in indignation. "Won't he hate you?"

Hermione sniffed. "I would hope that Ron would be somewhat more mature, than that," she admitted. Percy nodded briskly, a multitude of thoughts racing through his mind.

But clearly, Ron wasn't mature enough to announce his presence in the Weasley kitchen, instead, skulking at the doorway, eavesdropping on the conversation. He had expected this for some time, now, so he wasn't too cut up. It was pretty plain to see that Hermione and he were the least compatible couple on the planet; she was so goal-orientated and proper, and he was the opposite.

Ron balled as he realised the way he'd just described his girlfriend sounded exactly like the red head sat across from her. Percy was nothing if not goal-orientated, and he was so proper that it caused the rest of his family to sometimes wonder if he had a stick up his arse. Ron's eyes widened in realisation – how could he be so _stupid_! Hermione, his girlfriend, was cheating on him with his brother, Percy.

It was no coincidence, he was sure of it. Percy was sat in the kitchen with his girlfriend, right now, readily discussing her plans to dump him. Then there was the matter of Percy's clothing that he'd unearthed in the closet back at Hermione's flat. At first he'd assumed Molly had just asked Hermione to store some stuff there, but now, he wasn't so sure. It all made sense.

* * *

He burst into the kitchen, an accusatory glare on his face.

"What on earth is going on with you two?" He demanded.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, automatically wondering how much of their conversation Ron had heard.

"What on earth do you mean?" Percy asked, snidely, his distaste for his younger brother evident.

"You're fucking Hermione, aren't you, you git –" Ron was cut off by an angry Percy Weasley getting to his face, glaring right into Ron's eyes.

"How _dare_you talk about Hermione like that," he spat, "You treat Hermione like she's a piece of meat, and I'm positively sick of it."

"I knew it! I knew you were shagging her!" Ron exclaimed triumphantly, not looking in the least bit upset at this revelation. That probably had something to do with the lace thong belonging to none other than Lavendar Brown, which was currently in his back pocket.

"What?" An incredulous Hermione cut in.

"Don't deny it," Ron grinned wickedly, "You're shagging Percy!"

Percy looked at Ron coolly over the top of his glasses. "Hermione is just a friend."

Hermione felt her heart plummet through the floor, as the words cut into her like ice.

"My arse," Ron spat, "It's over, Hermione," and he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Hermione reeling in shock as he returned to his extra-curricular activities with his ex-girlfriend, Lavendar.

* * *

Hermione sat down in a chair, not quite sure how she felt. On the one hand, she didn't have to worry about breaking up with Ron, now that he'd done it for her. On the other, hearing Percy's words cut into her, "She's just a friend," made her gut ache with an unfamiliar misery. She braved a look up at the older wizard, who was regarding her with a look of concern, as well as curiosity.

His next question hadn't been one the Gryffindor know-it-all was anticipating. "Why did Ron think we were shagging, hmm?" He asked, his tone curious and perhaps a little hopeful.

Hermione shrugged, "Beats me," her tone was detached and cool, as she avoided eye contact. Percy's fingers were on her chin, tipping her head up so that she would meet his gaze. His eyes locked onto hers, as he regarded her intently.

"Well we do spend an awful lot of time in each other's company," he dropped in, nonchalantly. Hermione regarded him curiously, wondering where he was going with this.

"We work together, Percy," She pointed out, with an eye roll. The older wizard chuckled.

"Exactly, imagine the scandal that would cause if Ron makes people think I've been fucking you at work!"

"Percy!" Exclaimed a shocked Hermione, having rarely heard the redhead swear. "What an awful thing to suggest!"

He looked a little hurt. "What, the idea of sleeping with me is so horrifying?" His tone was somewhat teasing, though, the brunette noted.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, "No, I meant the idea of you abusing your position as my boss to charm your way into my pants," she shot back with a grin. Now it was Percy's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh really, now?" He grinned, "So the idea of sleeping with me isn't so horrifying?"

Hermione gulped nervously, "Let's walk before we can run," she announced, causing the redhead, four years her senior, to chuckle. Only Hermione would be able to use an idiom at time like this.

"Walk before we can run eh?" He laughed. She nodded, biting her lip. "Well what would you say the walking equivalent to sex is?" He surprised Hermione with how blunt he was being. Who'd have thought that the workaholic Weasley could be quite so crude?

Hermione was regarding the wizard with intent curiosity. "I'd say a kiss would do it," she smiled confidently, and this time it was Percy's turn to swallow, as he licked his lips nervously.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he muttered breathily, as he leaned in, closing the distance between them. He was tentative at first, pressing against Hermione's lips as if curious, but as she opened her mouth slightly, it became more passionate, urgent even. Their tongues battled for dominance, and Hermione found her hand reaching up reactively to wind itself in Percy's unruly read curls. He gasped, drawing the brunette closer to him, so that she was practically in his lap. Hermione had no idea how long they'd been kissing for – it could have been seconds, minutes, hours, all she knew was she lost track of time under the loving caress of Percy Weasley.

As they pulled away, both of them gasping for air; Hermione touching a finger to her lips, as if wondering if that really just happened, the Gryffindor know-it-all couldn't help but chuckle.

"So much for "Hermione's just a friend", eh, Percy?" She grinned. Percy smirked mischievously, as he leant in to meet her lips with his own, once more.

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**A/N: **So what did you think?! Reviews are lovely *hint hint* :)


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